


Sterek Drabbles December 2018

by Jmeelee



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Collection, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 14:38:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17245994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jmeelee/pseuds/Jmeelee
Summary: 13 drabbles based on the prompts from the tumblr blog SterekDrabbles





	Sterek Drabbles December 2018

**Earthquake, Budge, Root** (12/3/2018)

Cancer buries the Stilinski household under an avalanche of good intentions and bad casseroles. The prognosis is poor, and every Are you okay, Stiles? reminds him an earthquake is imminent, and he’s straddling the fault line. His father’s finally asleep, and he’s answering a flood of messages when the doorbell chimes.

“You okay?” Derek asks.

“I’m fine.”

Stiles’ quiet tone broadcasts dismissal louder than an air-raid siren, but Derek doesn’t budge. He says, “It’s okay if you’re not,” and the words rip up the roots Stiles grew to weather the storm.

So Derek opens his arms, and provides Stiles shelter.

 **Golden, Oak, Stumble** (12/5/2018)

Stiles adds ground Occamy eggshell and powdered rue to his cauldron, and magically the mixture turns deep, golden yellow. As he and Scott stumble out of potions that day, Stiles is holding a tiny vial of Felix Felicis in his fist.

Early the next morning he places a drop on his tongue, and his head turns toward the forbidden forest. “Something’s out there I’m meant to find,” Stiles thinks as he exits the castle.

In a copse of oak trees, he finds the handsome Hufflepuff, Derek Hale, pulling back on his shredded clothes. They lock eyes and Stiles knows. Werewolf.

  
**Iron, Shadow, Urgency** (12/7/2018)

For their engagement, John digs the Krupnik out from the shadows of the pantry. He prefers whisky, but Claudia loved the honey liquor, and he can still taste her kiss when he takes a sip.

“You’re officially family when Dad breaks out the Polish booze,” Stiles jokes.

Conviction turns John’s soft voice to iron. “Derek’s been a son to me for years.”

In terms of quantity, the Stilinski family doesn’t have much to offer, but their love for Derek, who urgently needs it, is infinite.

The sentiment makes Derek hide a happy blush in Stiles’ neck.

“Okay, Dad. Fair point.”

  
**Dance, Crime, Firefighter** (12/10/2018)

Stiles is sorry (not sorry) but when you’re forced to share a bed with a hot werewolf you wake up with a raging boner. It’s science.

“Quit judging. Everyone’s had morning wood before.”

“I somehow manage not to poke anyone in the ass with mine.”

Stiles’ hips dance away, dick flagging as he grumbles, “That’s a crime. Some poking would improve your demeanor.” Geez. Derek douses flames faster than a firefighter.

Then Derek rolls out of bed, dropping his boxers on his way to the shower. “Care to test that theory?” he challenges and Hello! Stiles is back in business.

 

 **Staff, Follow, Anxiety** (12/13/2018)

“Hello, Beacon Hills High! It’s ya boy, Cameron.”

“And I’m Allie with your gossip. Our staff volleyball tournament is Friday, and competition is heated between long-standing rivals Mr. Stilinski and Mr. Hale. These two teachers have been throwing severe verbal smackdowns in the hallways.”

“Stilinski told Hale he wouldn’t be able to handle all the balls flying at his face!”

“The whole school ships these guys, and is anxiously waiting to see who will emerge victorious.”

“And if they end up making out, we all win!”

“Crap! Here comes the Principal! Follow us on twitter for more news. We out!”

 

 **Choke, Miserable, Cafe** (12/14/2018)

This day sucks. Derek’s already fielded two conference calls that’ve gone overtime and is barely keeping his neck above the flood of emails. He’s facing three afternoon meetings and a mountain of paperwork, so he’s treating himself with coffee from his favorite cafe. Work’s been too busy for him to visit as regularly as he used to, so he’s shocked to walk through the door and nearly choke on the delicious scent of the new guy behind the counter wearing a wide-eyed expression and name tag that reads: Stiles, Barista in Training.

Maybe this day isn’t so miserable after all.

See Stiles' POV here!

 

 **Deck, Grave, Flow** (12/16/2018)

“It’s not going to fit,” Stiles says, face grave.

“Yeah, Derek. It’s too big,” Erica chimes from the porch.

Stiles giggles. “That’s what she said.”

Derek’s eyes dart between the fat, twelve-foot Douglas Fir they chopped down in the preserve, and the front door. He smiles—the sharp, determined smile that always makes the blood flow faster through Stiles’ veins. “I like a challenge.”

Later, as the pack decks the tree in tinsel and ornaments, and Scott hangs the star, Derek proudly says, “I told you I’d make it fit.”

Stiles sips his eggnog and winks at him. “You always do.”

 

 **Needle, Tree, Topple** (12/19/2018)

“Where are you taking the tree?” Stiles asks, watching Derek topple the imitation evergreen and heft it toward his bedroom.

Derek looks over his shoulder at Stiles and Scott’s forlorn faces. “Guys, it’s February, and we’re having a party. I don’t want it to get damaged.”

“What could happen?”

Derek narrows his eyes. “Promise not to do anything?”

Stiles’s hand covers his chest. “Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.”

1:30am finds Stiles dancing and grinding on the newly-misshapen tree. Derek’s shaking his head. “I’m so sorry,” Stiles whines, but he keeps on dancing.

 

 **Ankle, Leg, Appear** (12/21/2018)

It’s well before sunrise, but Stiles is wide awake, making sure presents magically appear underneath the tree and only crumbs remain on Santa’s cookie plate.

Back upstairs, he jumps into bed, legs tangling with Derek’s under the covers. Derek grinds the sleep from his eyes, shivering as he wraps his arms around Stiles. “You’re cold,” he moans.

“Warm me up,” Stiles demands.

By the time they hear the pitter-patter of stocking feet, Stiles is sufficiently toasty. “It’s Christmas!” Their daughter squeals, tiny fingers tugging at their ankles. “Get up!”

Derek smiles, singing off key. “I saw daddy kissing Santa Claus.”

 

 **Cup, Deliver, Hope** (12/24/2018) (PART 1)

  
The whole pack hopes and prays that Stiles will join Deaton in Europe for the winter solstice celebrations next year, but for now he’s taken to his role as emissary with typical Stilinski zeal, all over Derek’s house.

“You have to do something,” Isaac moans when fairies deliver more evergreen boughs to their front door. “I can’t weave another wreath, Derek.” He cups his stained hands, holding them up for Derek to inspect. “My fingers are permanently covered in sap.”

“I think you’re mistaking one sticky substance for another!” Stiles sniggers as he carries the branches into the living room.

 

 **Dish, Knock, Back** (12/26/2018) (PART 2)

  
“I won’t do it,” Derek says, clutching the tiny red, green and white striped towel to his waist. He shivers, despite the flames licking the magicked log in the fireplace.

“Get your tight ass in there. It’s _tradition_ ,” Stiles hisses on Yuletide Eve, pointing at the ancient clawfoot tub filled with steaming water and fifty fresh oranges. Even the soap in the soapdish is citrus scented.

“It’s actually pretty nice,” Kira chimes from the kitchen, where she’s knocking back wassail and munching swiss rolls Stiles has painstakingly garnished with tree sprinkles and cinnamon red hots. “Kind of like a spa.”

 

 **Hurl, Weapon, Pull** (12/28/2018) (PART 3)

Dawn breaks, ending the longest night. He finds Stiles alone on the porch steps.

“I went overboard,” Stiles hurls the words at Derek’s feet, tugging his coat tightly around him, a weapon against the frosty air. “I just wanted my first solstice as your emissary to be perfect.”

Derek sits beside him, shoulders touching. “You know the best thing about traditions? We can make our own.”

“So, less oranges? No midnight candle lighting ceremony? Nix the pentagram?”

“We’ll figure it out,” Derek says, pulling Stiles’ smiling face toward his own, and looking forward to a future of brighter days, together.

 

 **Medium, Comfortable, Fantasy** (12/31/2018)

“What was it like?”Stiles asks, sitting on Derek’s couch, clad in comfortable pajama pants and scarfing takeout. He points a chopstick toward the live footage of Times Square on TV..

“Cold, congested, chaotic.” Derek remembers the descending disco ball reflected through the medium of Laura’s eyes, a sparkling rainbow. “Beautiful.” It’s easy to long for those days, but now he’s looking toward the future, to turning long-held fantasies into reality. “I’d rather be here, with you.”

“Me? Why?”

Derek leans forward, softly bringing their lips together as the crowd sings _Auld Lang Syne_. “Because I get to do this.”

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to the blog, [Sterek Drabbles,](https://sterekdrabbles.tumblr.com/) for inspiring me so much this year. <3


End file.
